


I'd Rather

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, I Don't Even Know, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-18 22:46:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4723178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wanda Maximoff isn't so sure that "therapy helps." Now, the cute therapist, on the other hand, just might.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'd Rather

"I'd rather not be here," says the girl on your couch. 

"Yeah, most people don't want to be," you reply, trying to sound nonchalant. It's true, after all. "Who made you come here?" you ask her.

"All of them," she replies. That is the vaguest answer you have gotten in a long time, and you've gotten a lot of vague answers. You've learned to interpret most of them by now, but man, there is just about nothing to get out of 'all of them.'

"All of who?"

"The Avengers," she says, closing her eyes and shaking her head like the Avengers are her annoying family members she deals with every holiday. 

You press your lips together to keep from making some surprised exclamation, something along the lines of "Holy shit, how do you know the Avengers?" Instead, you just take a good, long look at the girl on your couch, trying to determine if you've seen her on the news before. Her face looks familiar to you, but her blue coat is throwing you off. You glance down at the New Patient sheet they gave you. Maximoff. You know you've heard that name somewhere before.

You close your eyes and try to picture her in another color, and the one that springs to mind is red.

Oh, holy shit.

Scarlet Witch is lying on your couch. You are going to have a tough time remaining professional throughout this appointment. You clear your throat and then clear it again for good measure.  _Don't let this get to your head,_ you think.

"So why did the Avengers think it was a good idea for you to come here today?"

"Therapy helps," she says, making quotation marks in the air with her fingers.

"Is this because of the things that happened in Sokovia?" you ask. She nods, one single jerk of the head.

Something tells you this is gonna take more than one session.

 

"I'd rather be back in my old house," says the girl on your couch.

"Is this going to be a recurring joke, Wanda?" you ask. This is her fourth session in two weeks, and every time she's come in, she's told you somewhere else she'd rather be.

"I think you're going to find out," she replies.

"I think I am," you reply. "Now, are you feeling ready to talk to me about your brother?"

She shakes her head no. One single jerk to each side. You nod. "That's alright. It will take awhile. Do you wanna pick what we talk about today?"

"You never tell me anything about you," she says, peevishly.

"I'm kinda not supposed to," you tell her. "Because that's my job. I listen to you."

She sits up. You're doing much better at not panicking, now, that Wanda freaking Maximoff is in your office twice a week. Still, it's a little scary and a lot awesome to have her there, watching you at the moment. You'd forgotten until now, but the news said something about her reading minds. Maybe she should have the therapy job.

"I want to talk about you," she insists.

"I'm not very interesting," you warn her, but she waits patiently, sitting up cross-legged on the couch. You tell her about your family and your friends, and about your pets and where you live, and you pick a funny story from your childhood, and then you pick a sad story from about two weeks ago.

"So she just left?" Wanda asks as you finish the sad story.

You nod. "Took all her stuff in the middle of the night. Left a note on the front door that said it was fun, but she just couldn't be in a relationship with someone who seemed to be able to read her mind."

"She should not meet me," Wanda says with what looks like the shadow of a smile.

That is the first time you've seen her smile since she first stepped through your door.

 

"I'd rather be flying in a plane," says the girl on your couch.

"Honestly? So would I," you reply. "You've probably noticed how freaking hot it is in here. The A/C broke and the guy I called  _three days ago_ says he has to reschedule for the fourth time. I mean, really. So how are you feeling today?"

Wanda shrugs.

"Oh, you know you can't get away with just a shrug," you tell her. "It's me, remember. How are you  _really_ feeling?"

Wanda looks at you for a long, long moment, and you swear those wide eyes of hers are looking straight through yours and directly at the inside of your head. For all you know, they could be.

"I am ready to tell you about my brother," she says flatly.

She tells you about Pietro Maximoff, born twelve minutes before her. They were always together, neither of them complete without the other. They never made a choice, big or small, without consulting each other. For a very long time, starting when that missile never went off, he was the only person she loved.

"But not anymore?" you ask, finding her wording odd.

"I don't think so," she says. "I love him, still, more than anything. But I do not think he is the only one anymore."

For all your years of training, this perplexes you. She says it... off. You don't know how to respond, so you ask her a question-that's-barely-a-question in order to get her to keep talking. She tells you about having races with him, in the rare moments beyond Hydra that they had together, how he would always almost win until she telekinetically stopped him in his tracks. Pietro Maximoff, born twelve minutes older than him.

"Although now, I suppose, I am the older twin," she says, and this is the second time you've seen her smile in this office, but her smile is so broken that it hardly counts. It leans too far to one side and hides her teeth and then her eyes are shining, tears are spilling down her cheeks and across that broken smile, and you know you've gotta be professional, you've gotta keep it together, but you can't, because you are so bad at keeping it professional when Wanda's there, and you feel the warm drips across your own cheeks, too.

There are eight minutes left of the appointment, and you spend them crying for and with the girl on your couch. At some point you decide that your acceptable practice has gone to hell by now and hold out a hand for her to squeeze.

She takes it.

 

"I'd rather be in the park," you say as soon as she walks in the door.

Wanda smiles. You've lost count of how many times she's smiled in these appointments. You've lost count of the appointments. You've somehow managed to convince her that she needs to be coming to three a week, and you look forward to them so much that you worry about the sanctity of your business practices. As soon as she leaves your office you're counting down the days, hours, minutes 'til you see her again.

Frankly, you're shocked the mind-reader hasn't noticed this yet.

"So it is a game after all," she says.

You shrug. "Was this not the logical point we were approaching?"

"It was," she assures you. "I'd also rather be in the park. It is butterfly season."

"I used to catch butterflies when I was a kid," you tell her. "With one of those huge nets, y'know?"

She giggles. "What?" you ask.

"I am picturing a little girl with a net bigger than her."

"That's... actually true," you admit, and she giggles some more. This is the first time she's laughed, you realize.

_Damn, I am so good,_ you think, even though it's really been all her, you've just been there to help her along, because that's how being a therapist works. Although at this point, you're not so sure you're just her therapist.

Seriously, how has the mind-reader not noticed you're in love with her?

 

Wanda Maximoff doesn't really care about what's acceptable and what's not, nor has she ever. Her life has never had a shadow of normal up until a few months ago, and even now it's only normal when compared to the rest of her life.

But still. She's been training with the Avengers, and she's getting better. She's learning not to use her powers instinctively, and her control is impeccable. They're teaching her how to be a physical fighter, too. She eats dinner with her friends - for they are her friends now - most nights. She got invited to a party. She didn't actually go to it, but still, the invitation was a pretty big deal.

And she's been going to therapy.

That's her favorite part. She told them how she felt about the therapist, and they all told her that's a little weird, but go for it.

She's still working out the logistics of "going for it." The thing about Wanda is that, for a long time, she hasn't had to jump into a situation without knowing how everybody around her feels about it. Perks of being a mind-reader. And, of course, she's never, ever,  _ever_ jumped into anything without her brother by her side.

She misses him. She wishes she knew how he felt about this. She wants him to tell her "Go for it, little sister," so she can say "You're only twelve minutes older than me," and he can laugh and tell her that she'll never know how this girl feels about her if she doesn't try.

But he's not here.

But you are.

_Sorry, Pietro,_ she thinks. Talking to him helps, she's found. You suggested it.  _But I'm the older twin now. So I'm telling me to go for it._

She imagines he would laugh and insist that she's only a few minutes older.

 

"Hey, Wanda? You still with me?" you ask. She spaced out for a few seconds. She's not exactly the most down-to-earth person, but this was longer than usual.

"Do you know where I'd rather be right now?" she asks. For once, it doesn't feel like she's looking through you. As far as you can tell, Wanda Maximoff is looking right at you, Wanda Maximoff sees you. You've never felt more exposed in your life. You've also never really felt butterflies in your stomach before.

_It's butterfly season, alright._

"Where'd you rather be?" you ask, tentative, hoping for something but not knowing what it is.

Wanda smiles. Even she has lost track of her smiles. There have been so many.

"On a date with you," she says.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This one goes out to herokenz. Thanks for the request, hon - hope it lives up to what you were hoping for!


End file.
